


you're my king (and i'm your lionheart)

by memefucker69



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9241481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memefucker69/pseuds/memefucker69
Summary: Zitao, a young werewolf, doesn't expect to have his life suddenly saved by a vampire, the race dead-set on the extinction of his kind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: minor character death, blood/violence, smut, vampire and werewolf politics (?)
> 
> so this is my first taokai fic!! i wrote it for ow!myheart, the tao fest, and if you follow me on twitter you'd know how proud i was to finally have finished this ;; my goal for 2017 is trying to write pairings other than kaisoo to further develop my writing skills, and this is a step for me! plus there aren't a lot of taokai fics anyways :

**_October 1848_ **

The cloud of smoke is choking and toxic, deteriorating the senses and making it hard to breathe. The air is hot and stale, and the flames can be heard crackling and devouring anything in its path. There are screams and shouts all around, figures darting through the smoke - mothers clutching their young as they try to make their way away from danger, stumbling children, the fainting and nearly dead lying on the ground. The only reprieve from the darkness of the night is the flashes of the witches’ magic as they terrorize the pack.

Jongin holds his cloak over his nose and mouth as he runs into the clearing, glancing around in horror with watery eyes irritated by the smoke. Werewolves from the pack are running from the lives as the witches and hunters attack them. Terrified, he hurries through the clearing, trying to find the man he came to visit in the first place. He flits in the general direction of the head alpha’s hut.

However he arrives to find said hut engulfed by the fire, and the vampire’s heart drops to his stomach in fear. He can’t be dead already?

“Zhoumi…” His eyes feel wet, but it isn’t from the smoke.

Hearing hacking and coughing from behind him, Jongin turns and gasps, running over immediately as he finds Zhoumi emerging from the cloudy cover. He’s dirtied from soot and huffing as he clutches a bundle of something close to his chest. The man looks up and gawks at the sight of the young vampire.

“Jongin, what are you doing here? Go home! It’s dangerous!” Zhoumi rasps, wiping sweat from his brow.

Jongin coughs and presses his cloak to his face again. “I-I came to see you like I said I would. I didn’t know…”

Zhoumi sighs and shakes his head. “Nevermind that. You need to get out of here. Everyone is evacuating to the North Pack.” With one hand, he starts to push Jongin back.

“What about you?” Jongin resists. “I can help!” He touches Zhoumi’s arm, looking up at him in barely hidden affection and admiration as always.

The alpha opens his mouth, only to be cut off by a familiar scream of his name. He jolts up instantly, looking to his right in deep concern. “Qian…” He looks back at teenager and makes up his mind.

“Jongin, take my son.” Zhoumi hands him the bundle in his arms, and Jongin awkwardly takes the infant from him.

He’s never been in the presence of a baby. Jongin’s expression melds into worry. “But you…”

Zhoumi takes him by the shoulders. “Please, Jongin, protect him and take him to the North Pack. He’ll be safe there. I’m going to save Qian and whoever else I can, and I’ll meet you there, okay? Do this one thing for me, please.”

Clutching the werewolf child close and covering him from the smoke with his cloak, Jongin straightens himself up. He’ll do it if it’s for Zhoumi. “Okay. I’ll take him.”

“Thank you so much. If...If something happens to me, I need you to promise me something else. It’s asking a lot, but I trust you with this,” Zhoumi hurriedly whispers to him, gripping Jongin’s shoulders desperately and looking him deeply in the eyes. “Jongin, please look after him. Protect him from the danger he’ll face when he’s older.”

Jongin shakes his head. “N-No, you’ll make it! You’re the alpha!”

Zhoumi smiles at him and claps his shoulder. “You’re right but just in case. I’ll meet you in the North. Now go.”

“Wait.” Jongin reaches into the pocket of his coat, retrieving his handkerchief, crimson silk and embroidered with the crest of his coven. “Here, um, to protect your mouth and nose from the smoke.” He hands it to the older werewolf sheepishly.

Zhoumi chuckles but receives it from him. “Thank you, Jongin. I’ll use it.”

Jongin nods and swiftly turns around, leaving Zhoumi behind as he flits through the haze. He coughs and huffs with nothing to protect him, and once he reaches the trees he faces the problem of the forest having caught fire. Jongin stops short of the flames and glances down at the baby in his arms. The child is restless from the toxic air and loud sounds, but he’s not crying, looking up at Jongin with dark eyes.

Holding the baby close and within the protection of his cloak, Jongin searches for a way through and finds it with a beta leading the women and children of the pack through a safe patch of trees. He follows their direction but travels alone all through the night.

Jongin has to stop once the child starts crying in his arms, a long distance from his pack most likely causing stress. The young vampire curses as he leans against a nearby tree, furrowing his brows as he tries to shush the boy, but it only makes the crying worse. He realizes he’s scaring him and sighs. He promised Zhoumi that he’d be his child’s protector for the time being.

Trying a different approach, Jongin coos and murmurs softly as he rocks the baby gently. Gradually, the crying calms and stops. Jongin finds himself smiling as he touches the baby’s soft cheek with the pad of his finger. “That’s right. It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

“You’ll be okay with me, Zitao.”

 

**_November 1869_ **

His breath is visible in the cold night, coming out in white puffs as he heaves, paws digging into the snow as he bounds after Luhan and Yifan. They elected him as the one to carry the sled tonight, and Zitao pants as he drags the weight of the sled carrying their things behind him. Having been attacked again, they have to find a new place to stay, and Yifan apparently knows some rickety shack they can seek  in.

Luhan glances back at him in concern, his gold-tinted fur shining in the moonlight. Zitao lets out a small growl, as if to say _I can handle it_. He may be the youngest of their tiny pack of three, but he’s an alpha. He can do anything.

The wind picks up, and they know a blizzard should soon hit, which is why Yifan picks up speed. They have to make it to the safe spot before the snow starts to blind their vision. Wolves trapped in a blizzard and disoriented are dead wolves. But Luhan stops, dead still and ears perked up as he seems to hear something in the distance. Zitao comes to a stop behind him, listening as well. He can hear the faintest crunch of snow coming from a patch of trees. It’s a soft sound. Small prey.

Yifan turns around, regarding Luhan, who has started to inch towards the animal. A growl rumbles in his throat, and Zitao knows he’s thinking about getting to the shack as soon as possible, but they’ve been going hungry for a couple of days now. A dinner, no matter how small, is well deserved. Zitao comes up to the older alpha and nuzzles him, and Yifan snorts.

Luhan is a skilled hunter, a fierce alpha, and soon enough he’s leaped into the snow before shortly returning with a small red fox clutched between his teeth. Zitao’s stomach rumbles eagerly. It’s not much, but it’s something that they can eat, other than Yifan’s caribou jerky or Luhan’s grandmother’s blackberry preserves.

Luhan tosses the dead fox onto the sled, and Zitao glares at him. He can’t carry it himself?

They reach the shack nearly an hour later. It’s an old, boarded up place with a tiny chimney that probably acted as a home for a lone man or a shed for a long-gone cabin. It’s small, but it’s a place to sleep. They aren’t picky anymore, not after their pack was annihilated towards the end of the war, and they were left to fend for themselves. They’ve been a three-man pack ever since.

Zitao isn’t sure why the war started, only that the opposing forces of human hunters, witches, and vampires directly targeted the werewolves and their many packs. He knows he was born into the war as an orphan, with an unknown father and a mother who died in said war, and he knows that it lasted until he was twenty. They aren’t the only surviving werewolves out there, but there are no large packs left, and if a hunter or vampire finds a wolf they won’t hesitate to attack.

Yifan and Luhan shift into their human forms, nude, and unstrap Zitao from the sled. He shifts too, and they hurry in grabbing their things from the sled and getting into the shack for shelter. It’s empty inside with only an old wooden chair that Luhan quickly breaks up for firewood once dressed. Zitao shudders from the cold as he slips on his clothes, made of worn wool and cotton, and huddles up to the fire once Luhan gets it going.

“We can probably stay here for a week at the most,” Yifan speculates as he sits down with his knife and starts to strip the fox from his skin and fur.

“I think we should try to find one of those safe houses. I know it’s not as safe as being nomads, but it would be nice to try it out for a night,” Luhan says, picking open a jar of blackberry preserves.

“Never. You can’t trust those places. They’re run by vampires who just want to extend our suffering,” Yifan growls. Zitao shifts his eyes over to look at him, to gaze at Yifan’s one blind eye, a milky white, and the pink scars surrounding it. He’d gotten it during the war from a fight with a vampire after it had killed his younger sister. He doesn’t blame him for hating vampires, no matter how charitable.

Luhan falls quiet after that, eating the preserves with his fingers silently. Zitao wants to agree with him, but he doesn’t want to test Yifan’s patience. They’re hungry and tired, nothing good would come out of arguing about it.

“We could at least grab some clothes or food if they have it,” Zitao suggests instead. “It will only get colder.”

“Maybe,” Yifan replies curtly, which means _probably not_.

Zitao huffs and grabs one of the woven blankets, wrapping himself up and lying down. “I’m going to take a nap.”

“You should eat something first,” Luhan says.

“I’ll be fine.” Zitao rolls over to face away from them. His eyes are droopy and dry. He doesn’t think he could focus on staying awake enough to eat something. “Wake me up whenever you want me to keep watch.”

“Goodnight.” They murmur to him, but Zitao falls asleep before he can even reply.

 

A burning sensation. Right in the middle of his forehead. That is the first thing Zitao feels when he wakes up. He’s about to be irritated because Luhan was supposed to wake him up, not prank him. Groaning, he reaches up to grab ahold of whatever is poking him, only to jump up and back away when he feels it burn the skin of his palm.

He’s felt this before - silver.

Opening his eyes as he jumps to crouch in the corner of the shack, Zitao’s trained eyes catches an unknown man standing in the middle of the small space, a gun in his hand. A hunter. He opens his mouth to speak and growl at him, but a metallic smell meets his nose, and fear runs ice cold down his spine. He only has to turn his head in the slightest to see Yifan and Luhan’s wolf forms lying beside each other.

They aren’t moving, and there are bloodstains.

Tears of both anger and hurt have him standing up. “What the hell did you do?!” Zitao snarls.

“It seems like your friends weren’t that strong after all.” The dark-haired man maintains his cool and calm composure as he keeps the silver gun pointed directly at Zitao. “Poor dogs have been gnawing on bones for weeks, hmm? I just put them out of their misery is all.”

Shuddering in fury as he remembers all the hurt hunters have caused him in the past, Zitao doesn’t even wipe his tears as he lunges towards the man, hands aiming for his throat. The hunter is quick enough to duck out of the way, firing a bullet in his haste. It whisks just past Zitao’s waist, and the young werewolf lands on his hands and knees, turning around with a growl as he rushes towards the hunter again, determined to rip every limb from his body.

He manages to grab ahold of the barrel of the gun in one hand, the searing pain from the silver alighting every nerve painfully, and Zitao takes the man by the collar of his coat, surprising the hunter, and shoves him down onto the floorboard. The old wood cracks splinters beneath their weight, and Zitao’s hand slides up to his pale neck, intending to choke the life out of the man. He wants him to suffer for killing off his only remaining family. Zitao grits his teeth, digging his nails into the hunter’s windpipe as he watches him sputter and choke, clawing at the werewolf’s hand in an attempt to free himself. A human is no match for a werewolf’s strength however.

But Zitao makes a fatal mistake unknowingly as he lets go of the hunter’s hand to use his other hand for more pressure against his windpipe. He only has a split second to realize that the man is weakly pressing the gun to his chest, and Zitao moves out of the way as he pulls the trigger, only to get shot in the shoulder as it fires.

He lets out a yell of agony from the sting of the silver bullet, gripping his bleeding shoulder as staggers up onto his knees. It won’t kill him, not yet, but the toxic silver is a ticking time bomb that weakens a wolf, especially if it makes its way into his blood. As the hunter is rolling over and coughing and struggling for breath, Zitao hunches over, gritting his teeth and groaning as he digs his finger into the fresh wound, tearing up and spitting as he searches for the bullet. He manages to pull it out, vision spinning as the bullet clinks onto the ground, blood dripping and following it.

Panting shallowly, Zitao shakes his head to clear his vision, lifting his eyes to see the hunter in a similar state as he is, only standing. Sweating in the cold of the night, the sweeps his dark hair from his forehead and holds his gun out again, cocking it. Zitao can do nothing but kneel as standing and moving only takes energy he no longer has. The hunter tilts his head mockingly as his chest heaves for air.

“Stupid fucking dog, causing me so much trouble,” the hunter pants. His finger rests heavily on the trigger. “Just die already, you goddamn dis--”

A creak. A flash of white in the shadows, and then a figure is behind the hunter. Neither of the men can react in time, and Zitao only watches as a clawed hand sprouts through the hunter’s chest, crimson blood staining his chest and flowing from his mouth. Zitao falls back onto his bottom in shock, fear, and disgust. The hunter dazedly turns his head to look at whoever is behind him and coughs out one syllable: “Kim--” before he collapses and loses all life.

The unknown figure tosses his limp body aside in a careless fashion and steps into the moonlight. A blond man, clean and handsome, stands before him, but what has Zitao recoiling away is the crimson eyes that pierce him and the overwhelming scent of vampire filling the room. Not a savior. He tries to get up to fight as he figures will happen.

But instead, the vampire doesn’t even regard him, strolling over to Zitao’s abandoned quilt and using it to wipe the blood from his hand and arm with a wrinkled nose of disgust. It’s like the werewolf isn’t even there in his eyes. Did he just happen to be in the middle of an action of revenge?

“Who…” Zitao can’t find his voice for a moment. “Who are you and why…?”

The vampire finally looks over at him, a cold stare with a meaning that Zitao can’t decipher. Wordlessly, he snatches a torn cloth from Luhan’s clothes - presumably from when he transformed - and walks over to Zitao. The young werewolf flinches as he comes close, but the man only kneels next to him and wraps it around Zitao’s shoulder and arm, to protect the wound momentarily.

“My name is Jongin, from the House of Kim,” he says curtly. Zitao is momentarily stunned at the mention of such a high-up vampire family. From what he knows, they’re one of the predominant houses or clans in the vampire world. Why would an aristocrat come to save him?

Jongin gives him a look, like he can read his mind, and stands up. “I didn’t kill Oh Sehun to save you. It’s my job.”

“Job?” Once again, he’s rendered clueless.

“Get up.” The vampire tells him, and when Zitao doesn’t make a move, he takes him by the uninjured arm and tugs him up from the floor. “Grab your things if you have any, and come with me. You can’t stay here. They will most likely send another hunter when he doesn’t return.”

Injured and at a loss, Zitao just does as the man says. He tries not to look at the steadily bleeding hunter or the bodies of his fallen brothers as he picks up his old and worn bag, filled with his few belongings. For good measure and memory, he takes a jar of Luhan’s preserves and Yifan’s carving knife. Just something to remember them by. The thought causes the young werewolf pain and his eyes tear up again. How could they just leave him on his own? They were supposed to stay together. Their own pack.

Kneeling by the curled up wolves, Zitao touches their cold fur and lifts a hand to wipe away the steady stream of tears running down his cheeks. He can’t just leave them here, in this abandoned shack. They died in honor, and they deserve a proper burial like any brother or fallen soldier.

“I need to bury them. I can’t just…” Zitao murmurs.

“We don’t have time for that. Let’s go.” Jongin doesn’t seem to care.

“They died protecting me!” He growls, standing up with fists curled.

“And you will join them if you stay here. Now _come_.” Jongin sends him a dark glare, crimson eyes glinting. Zitao wants to argue, but he realizes Jongin has a point and relents. Rubbing at his eyes, he nods with a small sniffle, a wrinkle of a frown at his lip.

“G-Goodbye, Luhan...Yifan…” Zitao gives them one last look. “I’m sorry.”

Jongin watches with an indiscernible expression, waiting at the broken door with his arms crossed beneath his thick cloak. Not wanting to make him wait any longer, Zitao pulls himself away from his fallen pack and follows Jongin out the door - into the swirling snow. It’s not a full-on blizzard, but it’s still freezing and quite windy, and Zitao shudders as he stomps through the thick snow. The vampire in front of him doesn’t look affected at all, probably due to the many layers he seems to have on. Zitao is burning (rather _shivering_ ) with jealousy.

“My name is Zitao. Where are you taking me?” he demands as they continue on an icy path through the forest.

“There’s a safe shelter for werewolves not too far from here, Zitao. You can stay there and be safe,” Jongin replies.

Falling silent behind him, Zitao wonders if he’s making the right decision. He knows if Yifan were here that he’d be against following a vampire. But if Jongin was going to kill him, he would’ve obviously done it earlier when Zitao was vulnerable. He seems cold, but not entirely heartless. Zitao’s only question is why? Why is he doing this?

“So if you didn’t kill that man to save me...why did you do it?” He asks. “You said it’s your job, but you’re a vampire.”

“Members of my family, including me, are involved in an organization that is trying to eliminate the hunters and protect the remaining werewolves. It’s created and run by the Reform Council,” Jongin explains. “So it is my duty to not only get rid of Sehun, who was my target, but also make sure you are brought to a safe place.”

“Reform Council? So is that the group of vampires who are making these shelters for us?” He’s never heard the formal name before.

“Yes. You can consider us allies to the werewolves.” There’s no sign of a smile on his face, so Zitao wonders if he really means that or not.

They continue on their trek through the snow and cold in silence for what feels like forever for Zitao. Being part wolf, you’d think he wouldn’t be weak to the cold, but he’s always been more of a summer boy and his old clothes aren’t helping. He just hopes he can get some better clothes at the shelter, but not super fancy and sophisticated like Jongin’s. But he also hopes that he doesn’t have to stay there, especially if he’s packed tight with other, unfamiliar wolves. The last thing he wants is to be is treated like a charity cause. It isn’t what Yifan would want.

Before long, a large bricked building looms in the distance, candlelights in the windows shining bright. It reminds him of buildings in the towns he’s rarely visited, only standing in the middle of a forest. He can definitely see it being an inn or something along those lines. “Is that it?”

“Yes,” Jongin says, leading them towards it.

Upon approaching the shelter, Zitao notices a figure standing in front of the door, dressed in similar clothing to Jongin’s with a shovel in hand, scraping the snow and ice away. The stranger looks up when they approach, and his expression switches from shock to politeness once he notices Jongin.

“O-Oh, Kim Jongin, what can I do for you?” He straightens up. By his scent, Zitao can tell he’s a vampire.

“I have a werewolf with me. Do you have any rooms, Taeyong?” Jongin crosses his arms, looking every bit of the aristocrat he is.

Taeyong sighs, resting a hand on his hip. “Unfortunately, no. We are all booked up for the night. It tends to get like this in the winter. I can offer a room to share? I’m sure some won’t mind sharing their rooms.”

Zitao opens his mouth to say “that’s fine,” because he’s freezing to death, but Jongin speaks before he can.

“That won’t be necessary. Thank you for your offer, Taeyong. Have a good evening.” He says curtly, turning around after a slight nod of his head and motioning for Zitao to follow.

Bewildered, Zitao bows to Taeyong before heading back out into the snow to follow Jongin. He was completely okay with sharing a room, relying on his ability to get along with anyone, but Jongin spoke for him. What now? A little irritated, sick of the cold and stomping around in the snow, Zitao lets out a growl as he finally catches up to the vampire.

“What the hell? Why couldn’t I stay there?” he demands.

“Because I am staying with you to ensure your safety, and I will not be sharing a room with some random wolf.” Jongin steely answers, leading them in the opposite direction of where they came.

Zitao blinks, surprised. He wasn’t expecting Jongin to stay with him but also… “But I’m ‘some random wolf’ as well.”

There’s a suspicious pause before Jongin says, “There is a difference. I’ve already assessed your character.”

Narrowing his eyes, he decides to let it go. “...Very well. Where are we going now then?”

Jongin sighs, as if he’s reluctant to admit it. “My family home.”

 

Zitao knew that vampires were all about the grande, the rich, the luxury. He knew large families (or clans) that were especially affluent tended to live in huge, castle-like mansions. Being from the Kims, Jongin’s family home had to be beyond his expectations.

And it is.

It causes him to stop and gape after the guards at the gate let them in. It’s practically a castle with all stone and iron, looming with however many stories it consists of. Having grown up in only huts and cabins, it bitterly reflects the class differences in vampires and werewolves.

Jongin pays him no mind, of course, and continues walking up towards the front doors, forcing Zitao to jog to catch up. The vampire doesn’t even have to knock or reach at the carved door knobs as they open for him, two maids appearing, judging by their outfits and the way they greet him as “young master.” Jongin doesn’t greet them, instead grabbing Zitao by the sleeve of his shirt and dragging him inside quickly.

He hears the slightest hiss from one of the servants as he passes through the threshold and hurries with Jongin. He can feel the stabbing glares sent his way. They stop once they enter a sitting room to the right, decorated nicely with what you’d expect from vampires - red and black. But Zitao doesn’t get to admire it for very long as Jongin turns to face him and starts to unlace his heavy velvet cloak.

“Stay quiet. Stay close to me, and don’t show your face.” Jongin states, promptly draping the cloak over Zitao’s shoulders instead, tying the lace over his throat and placing the hood over his face.

“I thought your clan is well-mannered towards wolves?” Zitao furrows his brows, feeling the soft material of the velvet between his coarse fingertips.

“My close family is,” Jongin corrects and then turns around. “Follow me, _closely_.”

He doesn’t want to exactly press up against the man, so Zitao just hovers behind him as Jongin leads them out of the room and up a staircase - and then another staircase and another and another… Until Jongin pulls him by the collar down a hallway and to intricately carved double doors at the end of it. Servants look at them curiously but clear out of the hall when Jongin shoots them a look. He automatically assumes that this is Jongin’s bedroom, and the vampire opens the doors with finesse.

A maid is tidying up the sheets and silk blankets on a huge framed bed when Jongin treads onto the soft and intricate carpet in the middle of the room, Tao following with his head bowed.

“Young Master,” she greets, but Jongin only points to the door and the pale woman swiftly makes her exit, closing the doors behind her.

They are left alone. When silence ensues, Zitao looks around the large room, covered in the same red and black, expensive décor. It’s nothing he didn’t expect. Large bed, a lit fireplace, desk in the corner, a big intricately-carved wardrobe in the corner - fancy and excessive.

Suddenly feeling and realizing his exhaustion, Zitao sits down on the edge of the bed, sighing. His shoulder still stings dully, trying to heal itself with whatever silver poisoning is left in his system. Not to mention he hasn’t slept much, and it’s probably nearing sunrise, judging by how Jongin is moving to close the thick curtains over the windows. Vampires are weakened by sunlight. It won’t kill them, but their systems slow down.

“Now what?” Zitao asks, taking the hood of the cloak off of his head.

Jongin takes a seat next to him on the bed. “You are to stay here for now. I will try to find a better place for you in the meantime.”

“Is it truly that dangerous here? Is your family different from you?” Zitao starts to untie his borrowed clothing.

“No. They will not mind you being here at all. The servants will not be as welcoming, however, and any visiting covens may not be as kind to you.” Jongin unbuttons his heavy coat as he speaks. “It is probably best that you try and keep to yourself for the time being.”

“I’m restricted to this room?” His eyes go wide, hands stopping on the lace of the cloak.

“You can venture out if you dare. I wouldn’t suggest it however.” Jongin’s tone has almost a hint of amusement to it - _almost_. “But yes. For now, you will be staying in this room with me.”

“You have so many other rooms!” Zitao gawks. “I mean, the bed is rather larger but even so…”

“I don’t bite.” Hearing that in Jongin’s monotone voice doesn’t help at all. He doesn’t even crack a smile as he continues to undress. Zitao scoffs and turns his head. How the hell is he supposed to figure out this vampire? Let alone sleep in the same bed with what he believed to be his mortal enemy only hours ago? But he knows he has no choice but to accept his current fate.

Yet he lies awake in the daytime, back turned to the slumbering vampire a few feet from him, and Zitao cries silently, shaking and shedding hot, salty tears onto the soft pillow beneath his head. Tears for his fallen brothers, for his long-broken pack, and for the sudden, heavy weight of loneliness baring down on him.

 

Having fallen asleep sometime, Zitao wakes up and expects to hear Luhan nagging him awake or the sound of Yifan cooking something over the fire. But instead he’s faced with Jongin’s blank expression and clothes being dropped onto his chest.

“Get up and bathe.” He states. His brows are furrowed this time, as if troubled by something.

It catches the drowsy werewolf off-guard, but he sits up anyways, confusedly grabbing the clothing in his lap. Just by the feel, he can tell it’s much more expensive and intricate than what he’s used to wearing.

“Bathe…” Zitao mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He glances up and expects Jongin to still be there, but to his surprise Jongin has disappeared and in his place is a kind-looking, young woman, dressed in servant skirts. The smell of werewolf in the room doubles.

“Hello, Young Master Zitao. It is nice to meet you. You may call me Meiqi.” She can’t be older than her teens as she smiles politely and curtseys. “I’m here to guide you and bathe you.”

Disbelief coats his expression. “You’re...a servant? A werewolf?”

“Young Master Jongin thought you would be more comfortable if I were to serve you.” Meiqi motions to the door. “Shall we go?”

A spark of anger builds in his throat, biting back a growl that tries to slip through. Jongin preached about fighting for the wolves last night, but his family keeps them as servants? This poor young woman. Was she captured in one of the raids long ago? Or in a tiny pack like Zitao and scooped up?

“I know what you are thinking,” Meiqi interrupts his thoughts, her face lacking the stiffness of a servant this time. “You think that I was forced here. But that is quite the opposite.”

“Opposite?” Zitao stands up, puzzled.

“Yes. Madam and Master Kim saved me as a child and took me into their home graciously, raising me as if I were their own. I only offered to be a servant to pay them back in some way.” Meiqi smiles. “I happen to like it.”

“Oh.” Jongin wasn’t lying after all. “Sorry...I-I’m just not used to…”

“Kindness from vampires?” Meiqi offers him an empathetic look. “I understand.”

Zitao quirks a smile at her, feeling comfort from another wolf in the room. The scent of vampire is only slightly less suffocating. And with her guide, she leads him to Jongin’s private bathroom - a large room covered in marble with a huge tub already filled with crystal clear, warm water. He’s relieved to lie in the warm tub and relax before scrubbing off the dirt and grime that’s built up. It’s been a long time since he was able to bathe properly like this.

He’s staring at his reflection in a nearby mirror as Meiqi properly bandages his shoulder, the wound still sensitive. It surprises him, what he sees. He can’t remember the last time he looked at himself either. His black hair reaches the nape of his neck and hangs in his eyes. He hadn’t noticed that it had gotten so long.

“Would you like me to cut your hair?” Meiqi offers, noticing how Zitao is fiddling with his hair.

And so he leans against the edge of the tub, eyes closed as he listens to the snips of his hair being cut with care. He finds that he likes Meiqi’s presence. She’s quiet and calming somehow, and Zitao can already tell that she’s a caring and selfless person.

“What pack are you from? How old are you?” Zitao asks out of pure curiosity as Meiqi helps him into his new clothes.

She buttons up his crisp white shirt to the throat. “I don’t remember anything as I was only a few months old, but I am told I was from the Western pack. The second pack to go, as you know. And I am nineteen, Young Master.”

During the war, the Northern pack was the first werewolf pack to be eliminated by the hunters and vampires. That was then followed shortly by the Western pack, the Eastern pack, and lastly Zitao’s pack - the Southern pack. Most wolves that had survived from the previous attacks had seeked refuge in the South pack. But it didn’t last for long.

“Ah,” Zitao looked at his feet somberly, “I was from the Southern pack. I am twenty-one.”

Meiqi looks surprised at that and ties a lacy red ribbon around his collar after putting a vest over his chest. “I thought you would be closer to Young Master Jongin’s age.”

“I’m not?” It’s his turn to be surprised. Jongin looks just as young as he does, if not younger?

The servant lets out a little laugh. “Young Master Jongin is thirty-eight, but I don’t think he will age physically for a long time.” Vampires age very slowly once they reach maturity.

“Oh,” he replies simply. Surprised once more.

Meiqi pats Zitao’s chest once she’s finished. “Well, I think you are ready now.”

Turning around to look in the large mirror again, Zitao is taken aback. He looks like a different person - like a rich aristocrat like Jongin, though dressed a little more simply. He doesn’t exactly hate what he sees. It’s just...odd. “Ready for what, exactly?” He smooths down his hair, now in an elegant, shorter style.

“Meeting Master and Madame Kim, of course.”

 

Meiqi leads him down to the first floor of the Kim mansion and to the dining room, a large room filled with a long table and the same dark, elegant décor. Jongin sits at the table filled with food and delicacies in his usual brooding manner with his hands in his lap, his almost-white hair standing out against all the black. He is not alone, however. Zitao’s eyes settle on two older women sitting to Jongin’s left, chatting eagerly and sipping at their blood wine. And across from the three sit a man and a woman, who he guesses to be Madame and Master Kim.

Stepping into the room, all crimson eyes land on Zitao, who freezes in place. He feels judged already, but it doesn’t seem like the Kim’s are all like Jongin as polite and friendly smiles greet him, and Master Kim stands up, motioning him to join them.

“Come now, we’ve been waiting to meet you!” He seems genuinely excited, and Zitao cracks a timid grin as he moves to sit in the empty seat next to Jongin, meeting the vampire’s eyes as he does so.

“Zitao, is it? It is very nice to meet you.” The small, pale woman with blonde hair - Madame Kim - speaks softly and smiles at him. “You can call me Madame Joohyun, if you’d like.” She definitely reminds him of Jongin, only nonaggressive.

“Ah, yes, yes, and I’m Junmyeon.” Master Kim introduces himself, a shorter man with a beautiful face and dark hair. He then motions to the two women beside Jongin - both with long dark hair and similar features to their parents. “These are my daughters, Hyojung and Hyoyeon, and of course you know my darling son, Jongin.”

Jongin rolls his eyes and slumps in his chair, clearly either embarrassed or annoyed. His mannerisms makes Zitao grin, but he covers it up by directing his smile to Jongin’s family. “It’s very nice to meet you, sir. And you too Madame. Thank you for letting me stay here for the time being.”

“Jongin filled us in on your situation, and you are always welcome to stay here. We accept anyone with open arms.” Junmyeon tips his glass to him. Zitao notices Meiqi placing a plate of food in front of him, steaming and appetizing. He tries not to stare too hard. It’s been so long since he’s seen _real_ food, and this looks even better than that.

“Eat,” Jongin mumbles solely to him. “Don’t mind them.”

Zitao glances up to see Jongin poking at his food with his fork absentmindedly. Vampires don’t need to consume anything other than blood, and it looks like he doesn’t have an appetite.

But Zitao does, and he wastes no time in picking up a pair of chopsticks and starts eating, holding back a moan at how good everything tastes. If he gets to eat like this every day, maybe he won’t mind staying here as much. Stuffing his cheeks full, he reaches for his glass of water, gulping it down.

Hyojung snickers. “He’s like a pig.”

“Wolves have big stomachs, you know.” Hyoyeon comments, and Zitao puts his water down with a frown and glare. He doesn’t like being mocked.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jongin cuts in before he can. “If you two actually did something other than gossip with all of your friends for once, you’d know that he probably had little-to-no food since the war.” He doesn’t even look at them as he talks, and it’s such a sharp comeback that Zitao would laugh if he were more comfortable.

There’s a period of silence as Jongin quietly eats, seeming unaffected by his sisters’ twin glares.

“Now, now, Jongin, I’m sure your sisters meant no maliciousness.” Junmyeon tries to calm the air with a light laugh.

Jongin looks up once, continues chewing, and then looks back down. Completely ignored. This time, Zitao has to choke back a laugh by stuffing more food into his mouth.

 

The few days that follow are strange. Zitao has to adjust to living in the Kim’s, living without his brothers. It’s hard at first, adjusting to the fact that Luhan and Yifan are no longer by his side. Sometimes he longs for them to be beside him, guiding him through the world. Whenever he feels lonely, he digs through his old bag and takes out a wrinkled photo of them from when the pack was still alive, all of them younger and happier. He wishes he could go back to that time, to when things hadn’t been ruined by the war.

He finds a candle and lights it on top of Jongin’s wardrobe, placing the photo behind it and murmuring a small prayer, telling Luhan and Yifan he’s sorry and updating them on the world every night.

But there’s not much to talk about. In fact, Jongin is hardly around. Zitao ends up having to entertain himself in the large mansion, often following Meiqi around as she does her duties and asking about different things. He finds out that they aren’t the only werewolves there as there are several older servants, and even a seven year old pup named Chenle.

“He’s the adopted son of Madame and Master Kim,” Meiqi explains as they look out to the gardens from the window and see the young boy running around with some of the servants. “He was recovered as an infant from the remains of a tiny pack. They like to keep him a secret though, much like you. They don’t want him to grow up in a world that hates him.”

“So he is like you?” Zitao looks at Meiqi, who is dusting off one of the bookshelves, turned away from him.

“Yes, but to him Madame and Master Kim are his only parents. To me, they are more like foster parents.” She replies simply, leaving it at that. Zitao wonders if there is more to her words, but he doesn’t try to pry.

As said, Jongin isn’t at the mansion very often. Much like his personality, he is distant. The only time Zitao gets to see him is when he comes to the room at dawn (if he comes home at all) or when he gets up in the evening to leave. He wonders where he goes and what he does. Jongin did say he was part of that council...Something-with-an-R Council?

“Reform Council,” Meiqi supplies for him after Zitao wonders aloud. “At night, Young Master Kim goes to perform missions for them.”

“What kind of missions?” Zitao helps her straighten the sheets in Hyorin’s room.

“Mostly eliminating hunters or foul vampires causing harm. He is skilled in fighting, as you most likely saw firsthand. His second job is to take any victims to safety, like you.” Meiqi then looks at him curiously, tilting her head. “Oddly enough he took you here instead of a shelter.”

“He tried to take me to one, but it was filled up.” Zitao shrugs.

“That has happened before, and he would take them to the Reform Council’s headquarters - not here. _That_ is what is interesting.” Meiqi quirks a smile.

“It’s just a coincidence.” He mumbles, fixing the pillows. There’s no way there’s a specific reason as to why he received different treatment. Maybe the mansion was closer? Zitao was also pretty vulnerable, so it would’ve be best to take him to the safest place to Jongin. That had to be it.

 

His eyes snap open in the breaking daylight when the twin doors to the room creak open. Zitao hears the telltale _thump_ of Jongin’s boots dragging over the floorboards and how he stops and shuts all the curtains that Zitao stubbornly leaves open, hissing at the sunlight. It’s a routine that he’s memorized over the past fortnight of staying in Jongin’s room.

Over the past few days, he’s been thinking - thinking about how terribly bored he is. Also about how useless he feels, just lounging around the Kim mansion and doing as he pleases, which mostly consists of following Meiqi around. She has to be getting annoyed of him and his hovering presence. He could try working as a servant, but Meiqi has already told him he’s not very good at housework and chores.

And so, he’s come to the solution of joining Jongin in his endeavors and missions. Zitao is decent at fighting from his years of fending off attackers with Yifan and Luhan, and he can be smart when he needs to be. It’s perfect. What would be a more perfect time to suggest his idea to the moody vampire than now?

Promptly rolling over in the bed to look at Jongin, who is undressing in front of the wardrobe, Zitao blurts it out. “Let me join the Reform Council. I want to go on missions with you.”

Jongin doesn’t even flinch or react at all. “No.”

Zitao scoffs and sits up. “Why not? I would be a good asset.”

“You couldn’t defend yourself against one rookie hunter. You will drag me down. No.”

“You can’t keep me caged here forever! And if I’m so terrible at defending myself, isn’t it better for me to learn from you? What’s the point of keeping me alive if I’m just going to go out and get myself killed later on!” It’s a blow to his own ego but for the sake of the argument, he’ll say it.

“What will happen if you get us _both_ killed then?” Jongin turns to glare at him.

“You’re too smart to get dragged down with me.”

“...You make a good point.”

Zitao gets hopeful and perks up. “So you will let me come then? I promise I won’t drag you down at all.” He says it as sincere as he can.

Jongin sighs, rubbing his eyes and obviously exhausted. Zitao caught him at a good time. “Very well. You can accompany me tomorrow, but if you slip up in the slightest, I’ll cut you off.”

It’s better than nothing. “I won’t disappoint you. I promise.” He beams at a nearly nude Jongin, whose eyes rest on Zitao’s smile for a pause of time before turning back to the wardrobe silently.

The young werewolf huffs and falls back down onto the mattress. He can never read what Jongin is thinking or feeling. Everytime he looks like he wants to say something and then just...doesn’t.

 

They get up when the sun sets, and Jongin dresses Zitao with more layers than necessary, saying it’s for protection. Zitao thinks he means from swords or wounds to the skin, but when they step outside to all the snow that fell overnight he realizes it’s for warmth. Drowsy and freezing, Zitao pouts as they begin their journey out to wherever it is they’re going.

“I’m surprised you haven’t asked me anything yet,” Jongin says out of the blue as they stomp through the snow.

“I would ask, but I thought that you would just ignore me until we got there,” Zitao mumbles, following closely behind the vampire. He doesn’t trust Jongin enough to not up and leave him behind.

There’s a soft sound from Jongin, almost like a cough but not. It has Zitao stopping in the snow, feeling the coldness seep into his boots as he freezes in realization.

“Did...did you just _chuckle_?” He gapes.

“You must be tired.” Jongin states as blandly as ever, continuing on as if it had never happened.

Running to catch up with him, the werewolf points a finger. “I know what I heard! And I _would_ like to know where we are going and what we are doing, thank you.”

“We have word of a hunter targeting a small pack not too far from here. That’s where we are heading. We need to eliminate the hunter and take the wolves to a shelter nearby.” Jongin explains. “And you are _not_ to transform into your wolf form at any time.”

“Why not?” He asks, curious. He can fight fine without it, due to his strength and training, but it is an advantage he’d like to have.

“You leave yourself vulnerable and noticeable. It’s better to use a stealthy approach. Hunters are well-trained and can easily overpower wolves with their weapons.” Jongin’s cloak flutters with the evening breeze, and Zitao spots a glimmering metal peeking beneath. A sword? But when he saved Zitao the last time he used a hand to kill the hunter.

“You use a sword?” Zitao points to Jongin’s hip. “You didn’t have that when you saved me though.”

Jongin looks down at the sword’s sheath, then at Zitao, and then flickers his gaze towards the trees. “I had forgotten it that night. I had no choice but to use my own force.”

“Huh,” he pouts, looking down at his own hands, stiff from the cold. “So I just have to use my own fists?”

“You’re the one who asked to join me.”

They continue walking in silence, now side-by-side. Jongin must know the land by heart because he never has to refer to any sort of map as he leads them towards their destination. Zitao looks over to the vampire for a moment, admiring his profile in the moonlight. Of course he’s handsome; that’s a thing for vampires. They can’t lure humans in if they aren’t attractive. He has sharp and smooth features, and with the addition of pouty lips it’s something that makes him look perpetually pissed all the time.

Crimson eyes slide over to meet Zitao’s and an odd sense of déja-vu washes over him. But he doesn’t get a chance to think on it before the anguished howl of a wolf followed by gunshots shakes him to the core.

“We’re close.” Jongin turns toward the sound and starts to run in the direction. Zitao follows right behind him, glad that Jongin decided to not use his amazing speed and leave him in the dust.

They peek through a patch of evergreen trees to see a small settlement or camp of a pack, a woman and child sit scared under a shelter with a dead wolf at their feet, blood spilling out onto the snow. In front of that is one growling wolf, trying to protect their kin from a burly hunter with a rifle and a sneer.

Zitao looks at Jongin for any sort of guidance, and the vampire stares intently at the scene, as if judging what to do and how to approach. In the meantime, Zitao watches as the wolf pounces on the hunter, sharp teeth sinking into the man’s shoulder as it tackles him down to the ground. This can’t end well.

“We have to do something,” Zitao hisses to Jongin.

“We must wait for an opening,” Jongin replies calmly.

“They’re going to get killed at this rate!” Zitao growls, turning his eyes back to the scene and clenching his teeth as the hunter easily overpowers the thin, weak wolf with his strength. This pack hasn’t been faring well, and it’s showing. His heartbeat accelerates in anxiety as the hunter lifts the barrel of his gun, gleaming silver.

He can’t watch this anymore.

Grabbing the hilt of Jongin’s sword, he removes it from the sheath at his hip before he can stop him and runs into the trees, skitting between the pack and the hunter, sword raised. “Stop this!”

The hunter takes a step back with a glare, rifle pointed at Zitao. “Who the hell are you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going to kill you.” Zitao doesn’t wait before striking forward, meeting the fast reflexes of the hunter, who uses the length of his rifle to block.

“You talk big for a wolf in vampire’s clothing.” The hunter grins, pushing back against his sword, metal sliding against metal.

“Really?” Zitao discretely looks to the side of the hunter to see Jongin’s form hiding in the shadows. The vampire gives him a nod. “It’s just a fashion choice.”

The sword and gun slide away from each other, and Zitao is quick to try and back away, only to feel something sharp pierce his thigh. He yelps as his leg gives out beneath him as a numbing sensation spreads out. With a hiss, he looks down to see a dagger in his thigh, coated with some substance.

Yanking the dagger out, he flinches at the feeling of silver touching his chin. The hunter chuckles as he lifts Zitao’s chin and presses the barrel of his gun to his neck. “Is your body starting to go numb? It’s wolfsbane. I used it on that poor thing over there.” He motions to the dead wolf. “And now it’s your turn.” His finger moves to the trigger, but Zitao isn’t afraid as he sees the shadows move.

The hunter doesn’t even expect it as long nails grab him by the throat from behind, slicing through human flesh. Blood spills from the wound and his mouth, and the hunter gasps and falls to his knees, clutching at his neck fruitlessly before he collapses dead. Jongin sighs and steps over his body, sticking his bloodied fingers in his mouth momentarily to clean them.

“Are you alright? That was an _extremely_ foolish thing to do.” Jongin grumbles, bending down to examine the wound on Zitao’s thigh.

“You know I had to.” Zitao grins up at him. “But, um, my legs are going numb, I think.”

Jongin tsks and takes his sword from Zitao’s slack grip, placing it back in its sheath. And then with little effort, he takes the werewolf into his arms and lifts him up. Having no warning, Zitao yelps but clings to Jongin’s shoulders to steady himself. He turns his head to see the pack they’d saved staring at them in both fear and curiosity.

Jongin finally acknowledges them as well. “We are from the Reform Council and are here to relocate you to safety. Grab your things and follow.”

It’s an hour or two before the small pack has been safely lead to a safehouse; this one less occupied than the one kept by Taeyong. In the meantime, the wolfsbane did it’s work in making Zitao’s hips and legs completely numb as well as his mind a little drowsy. Jongin ended up shifting him to his back before they started to head back to the Kim mansion.

With droopy eyes, Zitao rests his head on Jongin’s shoulder, lulled by the motions of Jongin’s walking. Absentmindedly pressing his nose to the vampire’s neck, he smells the subtle scent of rosemary, something that smells calming to him for some reason. He closes his eyes and sighs. “You smell good…” he mumbles.

“You’re such an idiot, getting yourself infected with wolfsbane.” Jongin replies.

“I’ve never even heard of that...what is it?”

“It’s just something used by hunters. It’s toxic, but not as much as silver, so if used in a small amount like in your case, it will only cause loss of feeling.” Jongin adjusts his grip on Zitao’s legs as he explains. “You will probably be fine by tomorrow evening.”

“So’ll be ‘kay?” Zitao slurs, vision blurring.

“Just go to sleep. You’ll be alright.” Jongin’s voice sounds soft to him, and Zitao hums.

“You always ‘ay that…”

“Say what?”

“‘It’ll be ‘lright…’” Zitao slowly mumbles, eyes slipping closed, “‘s’okay with me, Zitao.’”

Jongin continues trudging through the snow, the tiniest curl to his lips.

 

_“Don’t run off far, Zitao! Just to the stream and back!” The old granny yells as the five year old dashes into the forest alone._

_“I know!” He calls back, a grin on his face as he carries the pitcher on top of his head. It’s nighttime, but he’s never encountered trouble or danger. That’s why the old grannies of the pack let him go alone. He’s smart and a big boy._

_Before long the trees give way to a dip in the ground, and Zitao slides down the bank to where the stream of fresh water flows. The sound of the flowing water is calming to him, and the reflection of the full moon in the water is beautiful. He takes a moment to admire it with a serene, innocent smile. Sometimes it’s nice to be by himself and away from the other kids who tease him for being an orphan of the pack._

_Suddenly a shadow overtakes the reflection, and Zitao startles as he looks up to see a looming, scary figure. A woman with pale skin and sharp teeth - a vampire._

_She grins at him. “What are you doing out all alone, pup? Where’s your pack?”_

_Zitao inches away, shaking his head. He’s not supposed to talk to any vampire except for -----. He knows they’re dangerous, and this woman doesn’t look nice at all._

_“Aww, don’t be frightened. I can help you.” With a sickening smile, she steps through the stream and reaches a clawed out towards Zitao. The werewolf flinches, frozen in fear, but he knows he should run. ----- said he should run if he ever meets another vampire. He sees her fangs glinting in the light and closes his eyes._

_“No!”_

_A gasp, a splash, then a snarl and the sound of something breaking. Zitao shudders and buries his face in his hands, scared. But he’s soon relieved at the familiar scent of -------- and a cold hand touches his cheek. Opening his eyes, he’s relieved to see a familiar teenage vampire bending down in front of him, a soft smile on his face._

_“-----!” Tears spring to his eyes and the child springs forward  to hug the vampire. “I-I was so scared…”_

_“I told you. I won’t let anyone ever hurt you, remember?” His voice is warm and comforting. His hand runs up and down Zitao’s back as he cries, soothing the boy. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be okay with me, Zitao.”_

_He is Zitao’s only thing close to family._

 

After that one incident, Zitao considers himself lucky considering Jongin still allows him to follow him on missions. He’s also been fortunate to not have come in contact with wolfsbane in the past nine missions either. There have been a few slip ups here and there, but as a team, Jongin and Zitao function surprisingly well. The werewolf always pounces straight into danger, while Jongin asses and plans quietly. They balance each other out.

But things change when they start to have missions involving _vampires_.

When dealing with hunters, they tend to not care who to attack who’s in their way first. Sometimes they go for Jongin, sometimes Zitao. But with vampires, Zitao notices the pattern that he’s constantly being the target. They’re stronger as well, and Zitao is always being saved by Jongin in the end. He doesn’t understand why Jongin has this concerned look on his face every time he stakes the vampire in the heart. At first, Zitao thought that it was because he was killing his own kind, but he doubts Jongin would be thoughtful about that.

He doesn’t catch on to Jongin hiding something from him until a certain mission.

It’s a male vampire, lower class and a terrible man who has taken two werewolf women as slaves. He’s so disgusting, boasting about his _bitches_ , that Zitao doesn’t even wait to go for his throat as Jongin moves to tend to the battered women. He doubts a sleaze like him would even have much strength to fight back. But he’s wrong, and soon enough the vampire has the upper hand, a hand around his throat and pinning him to the ground.

“I didn’t think you were this weak!” The vampire chortles, sharp nails digging into his throat.

Choking, Zitao tried his best to wriggle out of his grasp and claw at the hand.

“Think about how popular I’ll be when they find out I’ve killed the last pure alph--” He doesn’t finish as a stake is suddenly shoved through his chest, and Jongin kicks his shattering body aside.

Gasping for air, the werewolf rolls over, rubbing his sore neck and coughing. Meanwhile his mind is racing as he repeats the vampire’s words. Last pure alpha? What does that even mean? He pants as Jongin helps him up, the women looking at him curiously.

“What did...did he mean by ‘last pure alpha’?” Zitao furrows his brows.

“Hell if I know,” Jongin mutters curtly, leading the women along and turning his back to the lost werewolf. “Let’s go.”

Zitao knows it’s a lie. An obvious one. Jongin knows something he doesn’t. He’s absolutely sure of it, and he accurately expects Jongin’s next avoidance of the subject - how he insists that Zitao sits out of vampire missions the next night, and the werewolf grumbles as he’s forced to stay in the mansion.

“Hey, Meiqi.” He soon finds who he’s looking for in the dining room, cleaning up the plates from breakfast. The younger werewolf looks up and smiles at him.

“I didn’t know you were still here, Young Master Zitao. Are you not going with Young Master Jongin tonight?” Meiqi hands her plates off to another maid.

“No, he won’t let me go with him tonight,” Zitao huffs. “Nevermind that. I want to ask you something.”

“What is it?” She turns back to cleaning the table with a rag.

“What is a ‘pure alpha’?”

“You’ve never heard that term before?” Meiqi looks at him with puzzled eyes. “I thought you grew up in a pack.”

“I was an orphan in the slums of the pack. I can’t even read,” he confesses.

Meiqi gives him a look of sympathy. “Sorry, I had no idea. But to answer your question, a pure alpha has the bloodlines of the original pack leaders. There aren’t any left though; they have all supposedly been killed off during the war.”

Zitao’s eyes widen. That was not the answer he was expecting, and his heart stops as he takes a step back. The last...offspring of a pack leader? Swallowing thickly, he can’t even get out a word before turning and walking quickly out of the room, his mind spinning. Meiqi calls after him, but Zitao stumbles up the staircase and into Jongin’s room, closing the doors behind him and sitting on the bed.

That vampire clearly said ‘last pure alpha.’ Had he been mistaken? Possibly. But there was Jongin, who was clearly trying to hide something from him. Zitao was the last pure alpha? It can’t be true. He’s an orphan, and his parents had been killed in the war. There’s no way he’s someone that important. It makes no sense.

He has to find out what Jongin knows.

Running a hand through his hair, he stands up and starts searching in every nook and cranny in the room. Under the bed, in all of the drawers of the desk, in the nightstand, anything. There has to be something for him to find. He does find several letters in the desk, but they’re useless to an illiterate like him.

He turns his focus to the wardrobe, opening the closet portion and searching in every jacket and coat Jongin owned. All pockets were empty to his disappointment, so Zitao crouches down to pull open the drawers, digging beneath the clothes to see if there was anything hidden beneath. His search seems to be pointless once again until he reaches the last drawer and lifts up a pair of trousers to find a pair of objects.

Tossing the clothing aside, Zitao picks up what looks to be a silk handkerchief, singed black at the edges with a familiar crest sewn in. The Kim Coven crest? Finding it odd that Jongin would keep a burnt handkerchief of his own, Zitao puts it down in favor of grabbing the other thing - a folded photograph, yellowed from age. It has a year number written on it - the one thing he can understand - 1848 along with some characters that he recognizes as the werewolf language due to their shape and one other word formed with the characters of the vampire language. Names?

He unfolds the photograph to see that it’s of three people, a man and a pregnant woman and between them stands a familiar figure dressed in black. It’s Jongin, albeit younger and more akin to a teenager in the picture. Jongin with two werewolves? But who are they, and how did they have time to take a peaceful picture during the war?

Engrossed in his thinking, he startles when the doors to the room open, standing up with the picture in his hand and facing a shocked Jongin. The vampire stares at him wide-eyed, crimson eyes shifting to the photograph Zitao holds, and then his expression turns into that of anger.

Jongin flits over in unviewable speed, snatching the photo from Zitao’s hands with a fierce glare. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” he snarls, kicking the drawer shut with his boot. “I never gave you permission to look through my things.” Turning away, he folds the photo tenderly, regarding it with tender eyes that are unlike him.

“You’re keeping something for me,” Zitao states with a glower of his own, bending down to pick up the fallen handkerchief. “I’ve never known who I was, where I came from. And there are foggy memories stuck in my brain that I can’t put together, strange dreams that a man whose name I can’t remember appears in and saves me. I don’t know why or how but...you know something, and you’ve always known.”

Jongin turns and looks at him, a heavy emotion in his red eyes. He seems to contemplate something, looking down at the photograph in his hands, withered at the edges. And after a period of silence, the vampire sighs and holds out the photograph to Zitao again. The latter accepts it with a questioning look, waiting for an explanation.

“Those are your parents. Zhoumi, the leader of the Southern pack, and his wife, Song Qian. She was pregnant with you when we took the photograph,” Jongin murmurs. “Zhoumi saved me when I was young, and since then I had stuck to him. I often visited the Southern pack when I could, but things got bad when the war reached the South. The pack was attacked when you were only a few months old, Zitao. Zhoumi was so frantic, trying to protect his pack, that he placed you in my arms and asked me to take you to the North pack and to keep you safe, and he would bring Qian and find us.” His voice takes on a somber tone.

“I waited for days with you in the Northern pack. He never came. Eventually, one of the pack members just gave me that handkerchief, and I knew. Regardless, I would still keep my promise and protect you from harm. I made the decision to ask the Northern pack to raise you as if you were their own, and I’m sorry if that caused you to have a rough upbringing. It was the only way to protect you and your identity.” He sighs. “I did visit you in the beginning, as often as I could.”

“I-I remember…” Zitao interrupts, fuzzy memories coming to mind.

There’s a twitch of a sad smile on Jongin’s lips. “But eventually I had to stop when you’d become old enough to really retain memories. I always watched from the shadows, but when the Southern pack was dissolved I had no choice. That night...when your friends were targeted - I lied. It was not a mission. I was there by my own reasoning to protect you and your friends, but I was too late, unfortunately. I could only save you.”

There’s white static in his ears, and Zitao can only stare at the photograph in his hand. He can’t digest it all. Jongin’s known him his entire life, and he never knew it. He’s been part of the wrong pack, and he never knew it. He had loving parents who fought for him, and he never knew it. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“Listen, Zitao, I’m telling you this now because it has become apparent of your status. Your scent has been caught, and the vampires and hunters are out for your blood. Being the last true and pure alpha, you’re the key that they want destroyed.”

Zitao lets out a ragged breath and moves forward to sit down on the bed, feeling weighed down with the sudden influx of information about himself. Placing the photograph beside him with shaky fingers, he holds his head in his hands, eyes feeling moist. What the hell is he supposed to think?

There’s a dip in the bed as Jongin settles next to him, legs touching. Needing the comfort, Zitao leans against him without even thinking. The vampire freezes for a moment, but he settles for wrapping an arm around the younger man hesitantly, an unusual action to his cold character. Zitao wonders if that’s all a lie too.

“Now what?” Zitao mutters. “Am I...I have to fight everyone off on my own?” His fingers tighten their grip on his hair, anxious and scared. Why is it so difficult to take in?

“No, no, of course not.” Jongin is quick to reassure him in a calm voice, a cold hand prying his hands from his head. Zitao looks up to see Jongin staring at him with tender eyes, something he isn’t used to at all but is familiar somehow. “I must tell you that I did not go on a mission tonight. I went to a Reform Council meeting, and I admitted that I had you in my care, the last surviving true alpha. I did that to ensure that a plan to protect you could be formed, and we decided that we must start to reform as best as we can: let you live out your destiny.”

“My...destiny?” He furrows his brows.

“You need to form your own pack.”

“No,” Zitao instantly denies, shaking his head with eyes filled with apprehension. “No, I can’t do it. I’m...I’ve always been a follower, I _can’t_ lead--“

“You may think that,” Jongin interrupts, “but it’s in your blood. You have the abilities to form a pack and lead them. You can save the wolves, Zitao, by uniting them. You just haven’t been given the chance to do that in the past.”

The werewolf stares down at his hands in his lap, remembering that envy he always felt when the higher up alphas got to lead the North pack, or how Luhan and Yifan were constantly making decisions for their tiny group. Even if he didn’t admit it at the time, he knows he wanted to lead. Something within him yearned for it. He thinks about the father he didn’t know. He died so that Zitao could live. He wanted a better future, and Zitao could help create it.

“Just...give me time to think.” Zitao finally says, and Jongin squeezes his shoulder in comfort.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. Take your time.”

It takes him two nights to come to a decision, passing the evenings by staring at the photograph of his mother and father. He wonders what sort of people they were, what they liked and disliked, what their laughs sounded like, why they chose his name. Zitao wishes he had a chance to meet them or even remember them, but he knows they were good people, judging by how fondly Jongin spoke of them and the actions they took. And with that in mind, he knows they would want him to do what’s right, even if it scares him.

“I want to do it.” Zitao says as soon as Jongin comes into the room in the morning. The vampire turns and looks at him in muted surprise, eyebrows raised as if he hadn’t expected Zitao to decide so quickly, but once he sees the determination in Zitao’s dark eyes, he knows.

“Very well,” Jongin replies, and there is a distinct curve of a smile on his lips. It reminds him of pride. “Give me a week, and I will have the arrangements made.”

“Arrangements?”

“We must gather your new pack members, of course.”

 

They are surprisingly picked up by two carriages the morning of their departure, something Zitao has never experienced. He doesn’t see the necessity of it, but he knows the aristocratic vampires enjoy their leisure activities. A male servant packs their things while Zitao regards the second carriage, wondering who it’s for.

He feels a hand on the small of his waist, gently pushing him forward, and turns his head to see Jongin standing there. “Who’s the second carriage for?” he asks.

“You aren’t the only werewolf here.” The door to the carriage is opened by the servant, and Jongin urges him inside first, and Zitao only gets to think about Meiqi for a second before he jumps at the sight of two other people sitting across from them in the carriage, both wearing excited grins.

“Zitao, this is Chanyeol and Yixing, two of your new pack members,” Jongin states as he closes the door behind himself as he takes a seat. Zitao looks at them again, instantly sensing that they are both alphas and equally kind-looking. It’s a bit odd though that the man on the left, tall with dark curls, has a name from the native vampire language.

As if catching Zitao’s thoughts, he chuckles in a tenor tone. “I was raised with vampire parents since birth. But it’s nice to meet you, Zitao. I look forward to becoming closer to you.” Chanyeol even speaks with the same mannerisms of a vampire. Zitao bets that _he_ knows how to read.

The carriage starts forward, causing Zitao and the other werewolf, Yixing, to startle while Jongin and Chanyeol stay perfectly fine and proper. The two wolves’ eyes meet, and Yixing grins as he settles back into his seat. “I’m not used to this either. I only just married into Chanyeol’s family, and even before that I was part of a small pack that had split from the East.” Zitao instantly feels more comfortable with Yixing. Not only because they share a similar past, but the alpha has a kind nature that he can sense already.

“Um, well, it’s nice to meet you both,” Zitao settles for replying after a pause, oddly reassured by the feeling of Jongin’s thigh pressed against his own in the small space. Building a pack is meant to be like joining a family, but this seems more like a business setup.

“Don’t worry,” Jongin murmurs. “You have plenty of time to get acquainted.”

“He’s right,” Chanyeol winks at Jongin, who looks away with a disgusted expression. Zitao glances between them in confusion. “All the young wolves that still have strength in their bones are gathered at the Byun estate, my Aunt and Uncle’s home.”

“The Reform Council is held there?” Zitao looks at Jongin.

“Yes, we hold our meetings there. The Byun estate is as large as my family home, but they’re a lesser known family, so it’s less likely that we will be intruded on.” Jongin explains, kicking at Chanyeol’s foot with a grumble. “Do not touch me again.”

Chanyeol smirks, and Zitao wonders if there’s something between them that he doesn’t understand. They obviously knew each other before this, maybe farther back than just the Reform Council. That thought puts a bitter taste in his mouth, and the werewolf sets his lips in a frown and sits back in his seat, glancing out the window in the carriage to see the snowy landscape pass by.

It doesn’t take them much longer to arrive, pulling up in front of a structure very similar to the Kim’s. Servants come from the front doors of the estate, lined up for their arrival, and open the doors to their carriage. Zitao steps out to see the second carriage behind them opening its doors, and to his surprise steps out Meiqi, Yixuan (one of the male servants), and tiny Chenle, giggling as he holds on to Meiqi’s gloved hand.

“Why is Chenle here?” He turns to Jongin with wide eyes.

“I convinced my father and mother that he needed to learn what it meant to truly be a werewolf. He’ll be sheltered and protected by Meiqi and Yixuan. I’m not sending him off to fight or anything like that either.” Jongin leads them inside the large estate, followed closely by Chanyeol and Yixing.

“Everyone has been gathered in the ballroom,” Yixing steps forward, leading them through the rooms to the back of the estate. “You can meet our new pack there.”

Zitao eyes all the gaudy décor. It was fancy but not as lavish as the Kim’s home by any means. However, Zitao has never stepped into a ballroom nor does he have any idea as to what a ballroom _is_. But through grand and embellished doors is one of the biggest rooms he’s ever seen, completely made from marble. Music is being played, drinks and food served, and in the middle of the room is a large gathering of people. The scent of vampire and wolf mingles, so Zitao knows that not all of these people are his new pack members.

Regardless, he doesn’t think of well-dressed men and women sipping drinks and gossiping as a pack.

Jongin stops next to him and narrows his eyes. “This is not what I had in mind. Where is Baekhyun?” He looks to Yixing.

“He should be…”

“Good evening, Kim Jongin!” A man with inky hair and a glass of blood wine in his hand strides forward with a bright smile. “I see you made it in one piece.” There’s a certain mirth to his smile as he leans into Yixing.

“I think this is hardly appropriate for what we had in mind. This wasn’t supposed to be a soirée,” Jongin says.

“Well, I’d say the wolves look quite at home though?” Baekhyun motions to the chattering people behind him. Zitao cranes his head and glowers. He knows there are wolves in here, but they all look like aristocrats. They’re probably all pampered vampire children like Chanyeol. But he finds by looking to the left, in a secluded corner, are a group of what look like uncomfortable wolves, standing awkwardly and picking at their clothes.

“What about them?” Zitao steps forward. “I’m sure they would agree that this isn’t what a pack is like.”

Baekhyun finally notices him and raises a brow. “Oh, this is him? Quite a presence, Zitao.”

Yixing tugs at Baekhyun’s side before Zitao can reply, flashing him a dimpled smile. “My love, I think Zitao is right. This is a beautiful party, but werewolf customs aren’t like vampires’.”

Baekhyun shoots him a glare and a pout, obviously not pleased that his very important guests and lover don’t like his party. The short vampire ponders for a moment before letting out a sigh and pasting on another polite smile. “If you feel that way, Zitao, you can call all of your werewolves to join you the parlor next door.” He points to the doors on the left, and then with a huff, Baekhyun shrugs off Yixing’s hand and walks away to join another conversation.

Zitao, Chanyeol, and Jongin look at Yixing.

He shrugs. “He’ll get over it by tonight, but nevermind that. You need to get everyone’s attention, Zitao.”

“How do I do that?” He asks.

Jongin scoffs in response and grabs a glass of bloodwine from a nearby servant’s tray. He doesn’t drink it but instead smashes it on the ground, the thick and intricate glass goblet shattering and crimson spilling over marble. With everyone being of sensitive hearing, it catches attention and all eyes are suddenly focused on them.

“Like that,” Chanyeol mutters.

Zitao feels intimidated, never having so much attention in all his life. His voice gets caught in his throat until Jongin claps him on the back, shoving him forward a bit.

“I’m Zitao, the last pure alpha from the Southern Pack. If you’re a wolf, meet us in the parlor. This delicate type of party is for vampires, not for werewolves.” Zitao meets gazes with every pair of dark eyes in the room before bowing his head and confidently heading into the room on the left, followed by the three men. Their footsteps echo alone but are soon followed by multiple.

Chilled fingers touch the nape of his neck as they walk, and Jongin murmurs, “You did well. I will leave you alone for now.” The touch disappears as does Jongin’s presence.

Zitao smiles as they pass through the threshold. The parlor is smaller and filled with many couches, chairs and tables. Gaudy wallpaper covers the walls, and a pair of french doors lead out to the snow-filled garden behind the estate. He doesn’t bother to sit and chooses to stand in front of the french doors, watching the wolves fill the room, some standing and some sitting. Meiqi smiles at him when she enters the room, holding Chenle’s hand as she leads them to a chair, sitting down and placing the curious boy in her lap. After about thirty or so enter, the doors to the parlor are closed, and the room is filled with silent stares.

“I hope that any of you don’t seriously think _that_ is what a pack meeting is like,” Zitao starts off. “I know most of you are used to your pampered, dainty lives, but out there _we_ ,” he motions to himself, “those who weren’t lucky and have no one to turn to, _we_ struggle. And if you don’t assimilate or do as the vampires and hunters say, you die. That’s what it’s like, and that’s why we can’t just sit here and gossip.”

The reaction from his words is either disgust or agreement, but Zitao won’t take his words back. There’s a scoff and a blonde man who’d been lounging on the couch stands up, strong brows furrowed and obviously pissed off. “We know that, but clearly this is a better life for us, so what’s the point of even trying to fight back? We might as well assimilate!”

Zitao looks at him like he can’t even believe he had the nerve to say that, and yet there are several agreeing mumbles and claps. What the hell is this? “You mean to say you want to throw away all that your ancestors fought for in the past decade? Throw away what being a werewolf and a pack really means? Just to become some dainty vampire pet?”

The man rolls his eyes, stepping closer to the alpha. “They are obviously stronger than us if they were able to do this much! And all I need to be a werewolf is _live_ ,” he laughs, “I mean, I have the blood in me, don’t I?”

Never has Zitao wanted to strangle one of his own kind before. He thought these wolves and vampires were for positive reform, not for just bleeding into each other and becoming nothing. Gritting his teeth, he keeps his composure and raises his brow as an idea suddenly dawns on him. “What a smart man. What’s your name?”

“Yibo.”

“Well, Yibo, if you’re such a smart and strong _werewolf_ …” Zitao smiles thinly as he steps back and kicks open the french doors behind him, buckling open and letting in the wintry air and swirling snow from outside. “Why don’t you transform for us?”

Judging by the startled expression on Yibo’s face, Zitao assumes his hunch was right. “In fact, if you agree with him, why don’t any of you show us? I bet if you even knew how, you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He waits for a moment, meeting all of their eyes. Yibo backs up, looking away in both anger and shame, and Zitao sighs, closing the doors to keep the snow and wind out once more.

“It already seems like we have a lot of work to do if we want this to be a real pack. If you can’t transform, you need to know how to defend yourself. Keeping in touch with that side of yourself is important, and you’ll find that you feel happier if you do. I understand that some of you don’t want to fight or can’t, and that’s fine. A pack is more like a family, not a battalion.” Zitao’s expression softens. “We learn and grow together. That’s what it’s about.”

Yixing steps in. “We aren’t trying to tear you from your vampire homes, if that’s where you came from. We also aren’t trying to bring everything from the past back. If you like parties like that or living grand mansions like this, that’s fine. But if we don’t try to rebuild what we as a people had, then we are afraid that we will be the last generation. Please try to work with us on this, if your hearts are in the right place.”

He can see the thoughtful looks on their faces and how they realize, even Yibo is staring at the floor, face peaceful. The tension in the room relaxes, and Zitao starts to feel as if they are finally getting somewhere. With a sigh and a smile, he says, “I won’t ask much of you all tonight. How about we introduce ourselves and part ways for tonight? Tomorrow night we'll meet back here and work on connecting to your wolf sides.”

It works as an icebreaker, and Zitao learns the names of all twenty-seven of his new pack members. The numbers are a little atypical but understandable from the war. There are only five alphas other than himself: Chanyeol, Yixing, Fei, Xuanyi, and Minseok. The rest are almost all betas except for the two omegas, Meiqi and Wenhan. Alphas are already a rarity in healthy packs, and omegas must be knocked down from the war to find so few. He learns that most are in adoptive vampire families while the rest are spread out amongst the packs. One of the older werewolves, Hangeng, smiles at him and tells him that he was a part of the Southern pack, and he remembers when Zitao was born to the pack. Zhoumi and Qian truly loved and treasured him, their only child.

He ends up talking to Hangeng a little more as the room empties out, eager to learn about his parents, what kind of people they are. He even asks about Jongin.

“Ah, Kim Jongin?” Hangeng laughs. “Zhoumi had saved him from a bad encounter with some hunters, back when they still hunted vampires as well. After that, Jongin came on a weekly basis just to visit Zhoumi. He followed him around wherever he went. And I do know that he carried you to the North. That is true, and he asked us survivors to never let you know who you were. We agreed only because we understood that you needed to be safe.”

He wasn’t lying. The tiny part of doubt in Zitao’s heart is washed away, and he only feels more grateful for Jongin than before. With a bow, he thanks Hangeng and walks out to the ballroom to find Jongin, knowing they’re sharing a room during their stay here. But he doesn’t spot him anywhere and instead finds Meiqi dancing with Xuanyi, Chenle grinning between them.

Zitao taps Meiqi on the shoulder. “Have you seen Jongin?” he asks once she turns to look at him.

“Ah, yes, I think he’s out in the hallway, Young Master Zitao. You did great in there, by the way. I believe that everyone was moved by your words.” Meiqi smiles.

“Thank you,” Zitao says sincerely, a grin of pride on his lips. “I’ll go find Jongin now.”

He flees from the ballroom and through another adjacent room before he makes it into the quiet hallway - _almost_ quiet. Zitao hears whispers and stops just shy of the threshold of the room before backing up and craning his head out to the left instead. The moonlight from a large window casts onto two figures near the end of the hall, both he quickly recognizes as Chanyeol and Jongin.

A bitter taste fills his mouth. Chanyeol has his hands on either side of Jongin, pinning him against the wall as his nose and lips touch Jongin’s cheek.

“We had so much fun last time…” Chanyeol murmurs. “Come visit my room when the sunrises. I want to have you again, Jongin.”

Zitao doesn’t know why he suddenly feels sick with anger. He clenches his fists and only turns around to head back into the ballroom, not wanting to hear what Jongin’s reply would be. What’s so wrong with Jongin having a sex life? Of course he would have a life that doesn’t revolve around Zitao and the Reform Council. That had to be what they were talking about, and it would make sense considering how much Chanyeol tried to get Jongin’s attention before.

He doesn’t understand why he’s in a bad mood for the rest of the night, or why a part of him aches when Jongin leaves their room just as morning comes.

 

Zitao bursts into the room the following morning after the second pack meeting, feeling more pissed than ever. The door slams against the flowery wallpaper with a bang, and he growls as he closes the door behind him gingerly this time. Jongin looks up from whatever he’s writing on the desk in the corner of the room, eyeing him with both judgement and worry, eyebrows raised.

“What happened?”

“I need to punch something,” he breathes, stalking over and swinging a fist that Jongin swiftly catches with one hand. Ruby eyes look into his own, and Zitao lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He drops his hand and slumps against the desk, sitting on the edge.

“Tell me,” Jongin prompts again.

The werewolf looks at him carefully, hesitating. Jongin blinks, resting his elbow on the table. He looks casual and open with only a buttoned shirt and velvet vest on, his hair falling in his eyes. It reminds him of the rare times that he wakes up before the vampire and catches a glimpse of a younger-looking and innocent Jongin, slumbering peacefully.

“I-It’s Chanyeol - that _son of a bitch_ ,” Zitao spits. “He...He…”

After a frustrating and cold night of trying to teach werewolves how to transform _into_ wolves, Yixing tried to lighten up the mood by creating a warm fire for all the exhausted pack to sit around. Zitao happened to be sitting next to Yibo and Chanyeol, a fatal mistake it seemed because he truly got a sense of Chanyeol’s character.

“So you know Kim Jongin, the Kim heir?” Yibo had asked with a grin.

“Know him? Heh,” Chanyeol had leaned in closer to whisper, but Zitao could hear him clearly. “I fucked him.”

“He let you have sex with him?”

“Oh, please, he was _begging_ for me, spreading his legs and everything. I’m not entirely sure how many times we did it that night. It was at some party of some kind, and the man has such a low tolerance when it comes to bloodwine - could hardly call him a vampire.” Chanyeol had laughed while Zitao was plotting several different ways to kill him.

Jongin watches and listens to him repeat the scene with a blank stare and lets out a sigh when Zitao finishes. He looks as if just having something intimate about him exposed doesn’t affect him, but when Jongin turns his head a little, the werewolf can spot the slightest blush on his cheeks.

“That idiot. Why am I not surprised?” Jongin mumbles.

“I saw you the other night with him,” Zitao blurts out. “Did you…”

Jongin looks at him incredulously. “Is my sex life that interesting to you? No, I didn’t. The first time was a mistake that happened because I was blood drunk. I don’t normally drink more than one glass for a reason. I have no interest in Chanyeol any longer either, and I have been trying to make that very clear to him.” He stares pointedly at Zitao.

“Sorry…” Zitao lowers his head in shame. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just worried…”

“I understand, but that’s not all that has you wound up, is it?” Jongin says as he stands up from his chair, smudging out the candle with his fingers and putting his things away, folding up whatever he’d been writing.

Zitao stares at his back quietly. Jongin’s shoulders look open, inviting and comforting, and thus he doesn’t hesitate to stand up and wrap his arms around Jongin’s middle from behind. The vampire stiffens, but Zitao only presses his forehead to the back of Jongin’s neck.

“I feel like I can’t do it,” he confesses. “It’s so hard...running a pack...leading. Are you sure I was really born for it? I feel more like a failure and a placeholder than some mighty, legendary alpha.”

Jongin doesn’t move, and Zitao feels a cool hand rest over his own on Jongin’s stomach. “I know I was right,” he says quietly.

“How so?”

“When you were smaller, I used to visit you often, and I would always make sure to hold you close because I needed to comfort the child who had no family. But you, a miniscule toddler, would smile at me and tell me that you were a strong alpha who could stand up all on his own.” Jongin squeezes his hand. “I don’t think that is true or false. You are headstrong on your own, able to be on your own two feet with ease, but you can also flourish in a pack.”

A gentle smile tugs at Zitao’s lips, and he rests his head on Jongin’s shoulder. “I think you were the reason I never felt alone, even when you weren’t there.”

 

It only takes three weeks before results are finally beginning to show. By the time the full moon rolls around, the entire pack can transform into their wolf forms, even the tiny pup, Chenle. Most of the runs they do as a pack melt into playing with Chenle because he’s too adorable to deny. They end up bonding over that time, along with when they happen to get cornered by a few hunters and vampires, easily taken down by the strength of thirty fresh werewolves.

Zitao sees them as a pack, and he could see how they could become his new family.

Bonfires become a thing after the first time Yixing lit one, and they’re sitting out in the back of the gardens, laughing and telling stories when Jongin emerges from the back of the estate, bundled up for the cold. No one else notices except Zitao, instantly getting up and strolling over to where the vampire is.

“I thought you were in a meeting with the council,” he says.

Jongin brushes the snow from his hair that had fallen from the door. “I was. I want to take you somewhere tonight, however.”

“Tonight? Now?” Zitao glances back at his pack.

“Your pack is done running, no? I can wait longer if I need to.” Jongin folds his arms across his chest.

“Oh, no,” Zitao shakes his head. “Let me tell them I’m leaving, and then we can go.”

It only takes him a second to tell everyone goodnight before he’s heading on the path in the woods, following behind Jongin. He’s surprised they’re going on foot this time. “No carriage?”

“Our destination strays from the path.” His voice seems different, but Zitao can’t pinpoint what it is.

Stepping up to walk beside the vampire, he glances over to see Jongin’s gaze focused ahead. He looks...anxious? It’s still hard to read his face, but that’s what Zitao deduces. What would he have to be anxious about? That brings him to the mystery of where they’re going. It could be a mission, but Jongin would probably tell him that rather than keep it a secret, and why would he be anxious about that? Maybe it’s a present. Yesterday was the first day of the new year after all.

They stray off the path after about thirty minutes of walking quietly and go up a snowy hill with a gentle incline, slippery in a few spots. Zitao nearly falls on his face, but Jongin grabs his hand at the last moment, hauling him up with a soft smile. The werewolf nearly falls back down at that. He looks really nice and pretty doing that smiling thing. He should do it more.

Jongin stops in place when they approach the top of the hill, biting his lower lip. “I...I wanted to show you this.”

Zitao gives him a questioning look but bounds up to the top and stops upon two large stones sticking out of the ground. His heart plummets to his stomach, and he falls down to his knees, reaching up to brush the snow off with trembling fingers.

The one on the left reads _Lu Han_ while the right tombstone reads _Wu Yifan_.

His mouth goes dry, and he doesn’t even know what to say, suddenly faced with the truth that he isn’t sure he ever really accepted. “When...did you…”

“The day after I saved you,” Jongin replies, moving to kneel beside him. “I knew how much you wanted to give them a proper burial. I wanted to show you this when you were at a good place. I’m...I’m sorry that I couldn’t come in time. I wasn’t fast enough to help you and save them. I’m also sorry that I made you leave them that night. I didn’t want to.”

“I-It’s not your fault.” He wipes the tears that are quickly falling. “They...They would b-be happy enough that you...you were looking out for me.” Zitao sniffles and buries his face in his hands, shoulders curving inwards.

Jongin places a hand on his back, rubbing gently with a sad smile. “I never met them, but I know they would be proud of you now.”

“Th-Thank you…” Zitao tries to compose himself, knowing he’s probably ugly crying. “And that’s n-not just for b-burying them.”

He looks at Jongin with a red nose and frostbitten cheeks, eyes watery. “I mean it for ev-everything, like saving me so many times and staying beside me.” Zitao’s heart feels warm, and he takes Jongin’s gloved hand in his own gratefully. He can’t express how thankful he really is. Jongin isn’t the cold, uncaring vampire that he once thought him to be. He’s probably the most selfless man Zitao’s ever met.

Jongin only smiles at him, the first toothy grin he’s ever offered. His eyes crinkle up in the most adoring way that it makes Zitao speechless. If Jongin smiled more, he’d definitely be seen as a gentle person. “You don’t have to thank me.”

 

Zitao learns two weeks later that it’s Jongin’s birthday, only because Meiqi dresses him up nicely and pushes him into the Byun’s ballroom where people are dancing and having a good time, while Jongin sits pouting off to the side. Clearly this wasn’t his idea. And by the looks of Junmyeon trying to feed him cake, it must’ve been his father’s idea. No wonder Master and Madame Kim had suddenly shown up a couple of days ago.

He’s a little pissed that Jongin didn’t tell him. He could’ve gotten him...something?

Sitting down at the table, to the left of the vampire, he smiles. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” Jongin mumbles, sipping at his glass of bloodwine. Zitao’s never seen him drink it before so he’s surprised.

“Feel like drinking tonight?” he laughs. “Is thirty-nine too old for you?”

“My father won’t let me leave the party,” Jongin grumbles. He shoots a glare off to where Junmyeon is dancing elegantly with Joohyun, spinning around prettily in her ballgown. “Parties are not my idea of a good birthday.”

“I’ve never been to one,” Zitao shrugs. “I don’t even know when my birthday is actually…”

“May 2nd,” Jongin answers quickly. He grins as he pours himself another glass of bloodwine. “And you have had a birthday party. I came to you on your third birthday. Do you remember what I gave you?”

Zitao furrows his brows, having no recollection of the memory. “No.”

The smile on the vampire’s lips is playful as he moves his hand across the table to tap the ring that’s always rested on Zitao’s pinky finger. It’s made of gold with a simple emerald stone embedded. Zitao’s eyes widen in realization that he’s actually never known where the ring came from; he just knows he’s kept it all this time and fought off anyone who tried to take it from him.

“I didn’t think you would keep it all these years, but I did tell you to wait and wear it when you were older.” Jongin rests his hand over Zitao’s, toying with the ring. “I suppose I underestimated how much you would grow and mature. It barely fits.” He chuckles and takes another sip of his drink - or rather a gulp.

Zitao remembers what Jongin and Chanyeol had confirmed about his tolerance but decides against saying anything. He’s kind of curious as to what a blood drunk Jongin looks like.

“Ay, Zitao!” An arm slings around his shoulders, and the werewolf looks up to see a cherry-cheeked Baekhyun standing there, obviously drunk. “Lemme fill your glass up.” He grins, uncorking a bottle of something and pouring it into a nearby wine glass. It comes out clear, so it’s not bloodwine.

“What’s--” He begins to ask, but Baekhyun is soon dragged away by a worried Yixing, who gives Zitao an apologetic look. He mutters something about getting him some water before walking away.

Jongin’s hand snatches the glass before Zitao can even attempt to touch it, and the vampire brings it to his nose, which wrinkles upon the smell. “Wolfsbane,” he mumbles.

“ _Wolfsbane_?” Zitao gawks. He sniffs the glass himself, but he finds that he can’t smell anything but alcohol.

“Wolves can’t smell it,” Jongin clarifies, pouring himself his third glass already. “They do make alcohol with it. It only has a little bit of wolfsbane in it, so you won’t go numb. It’s only a bit to give you a good feeling, as they say.”

“So it won’t affect me that much?”

“...Probably not.”

Zitao shrugs and downs it in one go. It has a sort of sickly sweet taste to it that sticks to the roof of his mouth. He’s not sure if he likes it, but he continues to drink it anyways, asking a servant to bring him more. By the time he has a warm feeling in his belly, Jongin is already slumped against the table, cheeks red and mumbling nonsense.

“Do you want to dance?” He asks, touching Jongin’s shoulder. To his surprise, the vampire springs up, nearly stumbling out of his chair as he latches onto Zitao’s wrist and starts to drag him towards the center of the ballroom. Jongin likes dancing?

It would be a longshot to call it dancing, however, as Jongin absolutely clings to his shoulders in the hoard of people and sways back and forth. His cheeks are colored pink, and the vampire lets out slow breaths as he leans his head against Zitao’s shoulders. The werewolf looks up to see if anyone’s looking, but they’re all focused elsewhere. Jongin squeezes closer to him, and Zitao tries not to stare at his red-tinged lips, plump and parted.

Jongin suddenly snorts. “We look...ridiculous.” His speech is a little slurred and slow.

“I thought you’d be perfect at ballroom dancing,” Zitao says.

“Usually…” Zitao can feel Jongin’s breath against his neck, and he tries not to think about how fast his heart is beating, or how long Jongin’s eyelashes are, or how he smells nicely of fresh rosemary. The vampire’s pink tongue darts out to lick at his lips, and Zitao suddenly thinks that taking Jongin back to their room is a good idea.

“Where ‘re we…” Jongin stumbles along dazedly as Zitao leads him out of the ballroom, into the hallway and up the staircase towards their room.

“I-I think you should rest and drink some water.” Zitao manages to take them up to the third floor before Jongin starts to twist his wrist out of the werewolf’s grip.

“No, my father…I-I promised...” Jongin yanks his wrist back roughly as he backs into a wall, dragging Zitao along with him and causing their chests to collide. With a yelp, Zitao ends up with his hands placed against the wall, caging Jongin in. He sucks in a quick breath as his eyes meet Jongin’s, heavy lidded crimson hues gazing at him. Zitao can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage, his voice caught in his throat.

Jongin’s hand raises to thread into Zitao’s dark hair at the back of his head. Zitao’s eyes droop as the vampire inches closer, and his lids close as Jongin murmurs, “You’ve grown up well.” And then plush lips are suddenly pressed against his own. Jongin kisses him slow and sensual, both hands delving into the werewolf’s hair.

Zitao pushes back hungrily, desperate for bodily contact as his arms twine around Jongin’s lithe waist. His lips taste sweetly of alcohol with the iron tang of blood, something oddly addictive that he can’t get enough of. He ends up huddling Jongin into the wall as they devour each other in a mess of lips, teeth, and tongue. In his carelessness, Jongin’s sharp canines nick the corner of Zitao’s lips, but his tongue quickly licks up the the droplet of blood, groaning into the kiss at the taste.

Letting out a soft sound, Zitao pulls away, Jongin’s lips chasing him. “Ah--” A soft smack of their lips. “N-Not here…”

Jongin huffs and shoves Zitao all the way back until his body collides with their bedroom door. Zitao twists the knob, and they stumble inside, Jongin pushing him down onto the navy silk sheets. Seating himself down on Zitao’s hips, Jongin kisses him again while furiously beginning to unbutton the many buttons of his clothes. His fingers struggle with the brass buttons, and Zitao snorts, hooking his legs around Jongin’s waist and switching their positions.

The vampire sits up anyways, kissing down the column of Zitao’s neck as the latter starts to undress himself. Jongin yanks his coat and shirt down his shoulders once it’s unbuttoned, sucking at the junction of his neck and shoulder and just shy of breaking the skin as he scrapes his teeth there. He rotates his hips, grinding their forming arousals together and listening to Zitao’s responding groan.

“You too,” Zitao breathes, stripping Jongin of his clothing until all they have on are their trousers. He threads a hand into Jongin’s hair, tugging him away from the purpling mark on Zitao’s shoulder to capture his lips in a wet kiss. Jongin grabs at his hips and bottom, tugging him closer and thrusting up against him. His fingers sneak underneath the hem of Zitao’s pants, grabbing at the soft skin of his behind.

Zitao falls onto his back, Jongin kneeling between his parted legs. Jongin takes that as his cue to drag the trousers and his underwear down his legs, eyeing his cock curved up against his stomach. His hands pet Zitao’s naked thighs before roaming up to his chest, sensually running his fingers over every inch of tanned skin. He slowly bends down, eyes locking with Zitao’s as he presses a kiss to the curve of his erection. Closing his eyes, he laves his tongue over the head, moving one hand to stroke the base. Zitao moans, fingers gripping the sheets as he writhes in pleasure. It’s been so long since he felt the touch of another down there.

He lets out a soft cry as Jongin engulfs his cock, swallowing all the way down to the base with ease. He tugs at Jongin’s blond hair with a hand as the vampire bobs his head. Jongin must know that he’s close to orgasm already, judging by how he pulls away with a string of saliva, tongue sticking out lewdly. He sits up, licking his lips as he reaches back to the side table, rummaging around in the drawers until he finds a vial of oil. He soaks his fingers before tossing the vial onto the floor and giving his attention back to Zitao.

“I can...go inside, yes?” He breathes, and Zitao’s so aroused that he just nods his head rapidly.

Jongin preps him diligently, despite how eager he seems and how painful the erection trapped in his trousers looks. When Zitao whines, he sucks at the skin of his thigh to distract him. With his eyes closed, Jongin looks so intimate and focused on making him feel good that it makes the werewolf blush more. Even drunk and aroused, he’s like a gentleman

“I-I’m good, _uhn_ , y-you can…” Zitao grabs Jongin’s wrist from where he’s twirling three fingers around in him. Jongin sits up, pulling his fingers out and surprises Zitao by tugging on his wrist instead.

“On the pillows,” Jongin instructs, making sure he’s comfortable as he helps him turn around, and he tugs the blankets down so Zitao can lay on the sheets below. And then he strips off his own remaining clothes, stroking his cock a couple of times with the remaining oil on his hand as he settles on his knees between Zitao’s legs. He catches the younger’s smile and smiles back at him.

Jongin presses a kiss to his lips as he positions himself and slowly pushes in. Zitao tenses at the pressure and almost foreign feeling. His arms hook around Jongin’s shoulders tenderly as Jongin licks into his mouth.

“Does it hurt?” Jongin murmurs in-between kisses.

“No, you can...you can move,” Zitao replies, clinging to the vampire as he starts to rock his hips gently. His eyes lower to where they’re connected, and he lets out a surprisingly deep moan at the sight of Jongin’s cock sliding in and out smoothly. Jongin starts to pick up the pace at the noise, nosing at Zitao’s neck as his hips slap against his bottom and thighs.

The room is soon filled with heavy breathing and moans. Jongin grabs at the pillows as he pounds into Zitao, groaning into his ear. “Zitao…” The way his name slides off Jongin’s tongue has his stomach clenching in anticipation.

“J-Jongin…!” Zitao’s voice become breathy and high-pitched, unable to control the sounds that escape or how his nails claw at Jongin’s back. It feels so good, and he never wants to let go, tears building in his eyes from the pleasure and sensation.

He loses himself when Jongin hand pumps his cock, and he stiffens with his mouth open in a silent scream, back arching. Semen decorates his chest messily, but Jongin continues to move, causing Zitao’s thighs to tremble from overstimulation. The vampire pants against his neck and whimpers as if he can’t control himself anymore as he thrusts in roughly, coming inside. But Zitao can hardly focus on that as Jongin sinks his teeth into his neck, a quick, sharp pain.

Zitao can hear and feel Jongin gulping down and slurping up his blood, but he feels relaxed and sleepy. His eyes slip closed before he can help it.

 

The sunlight is dim when he wakes up, the last remaining rays of the sunset kissing his face. His neck aches faintly, but Zitao pays it no mind as he snuggles deeper into the pillow, feeling warm and relaxed beneath the blankets. But there’s something missing, and he expects to feel Jongin’s warmth against him. When he moves his arm back and feels nothing, he reluctantly opens his heavy eyes.

Stretching and rolling over, Zitao’s vision adjusts to the darkness on the right side of the room, where the curtains are closed. He just barely makes out the sight of Jongin’s naked form, sitting on the edge of the bed and facing away from him. Furrowing his brows, Zitao sits up with a groan, both at the sting of his neck and the pain in his lower back.

“What are you doing? The sun is still out.” His voice is hoarse as he moves to sit behind Jongin, resting a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Let’s go back to bed.”

To his surprise, Jongin shakes off his touch and refuses to look at him. It’s silent before he utters, “This...is wrong. We made a mistake, last night.”

It’s a stab to the heart. Obviously hurt and confused, Zitao tries to tug at Jongin’s arm but to no avail. He still won’t look at him. “What was it then? Do you really not care for me that way? I-I thought we...had something.” His eyes sting, and he wishes Jongin would just look at him.

A pause, and then a sigh. Jongin’s shoulders slump as he holds his head in his hands. “I...I can’t protect you properly in this way. Regardless of how I feel for you, I promised that I would protect you, Zitao. Being with me like this...isn’t good.” The words sound wrong in his mouth, like he’s forcing them out. And Zitao knows instantly it’s not what Jongin wants to say.

Winding his arms around Jongin’s torso, he presses his chest against Jongin’s back and rests his head on his shoulder. Zitao closes his eyes and savors the feeling, and he reaches around to grab Jongin’s hands, feeling them tremble.

“You’ve done enough,” he murmurs softly with a smile. “You’ve done your part, Jongin. I don’t know my father, but I know he’d be pleased with everything you’ve done for me. I can protect myself now.”

Jongin turns his head as Zitao presses a kiss to his neck. “I don’t deserve this,” he says.

“Just accept my affection, goddammit.” Zitao growls, squeezing him tighter. He’s pissed that Jongin’s being so stubborn, but it goes away when he sees Jongin crook a smile.

“You sounded so noble before. What happened to that?” He asks, turning around as Zitao lies down on the mattress with a huff. Jongin moves to lie next to him.

“Noble? Am I a king?” Zitao snickers as Jongin draws up the blankets to cover them. “What does that make you then?”

Jongin presses a loving kiss to his curled lips, lasting and chaste. Pressing his forehead against Zitao’s once their lips part, he lets out a breath. “I suppose I am your lionheart then.”


End file.
